This week’s weird band was suggested by an excellently named reader called Adam Whybray. He describes a.P.A.t.T. as sounding “a bit like a glitchy Mr. Bungle cult that formed down the pub.” And while that’s probably as good a description as any of these cheeky Liverpudlians (although it doesn’t contain the word “Liverpudlian,” which is […]
Photo swiped from Coilhouse
I have to start off by thanking the guy who wrote us up on Metafilter last week, a website that apparently has the magical power to make even a half-assed music blog like ours more popular than catbeard photos. So thanks, narain! Hopefully by the time we post this, you and all the other Metafilterlings won’t have lost interest and moved on in search of…well, catbeard photos, probably. That shit is all the rage these days.
The Metafilter crowd suggested a ton of potential new Weird List fodder that Andy and I are still sifting through, but we wanted to jump right on at least one band submitted by all you highly opinionated newcomers. After much debate, we decided to go with symbioid‘s pick of glitch/noise outfit Computer Jesus Refrigerator, because we liked the name and their videos reminded me of when I used to scarf like 10 Pixy Stix all at once and spin around on the front lawn until it looked like the hedges were attacking me sideways. Yeah, I was basically the Gary Busey of my third grade class.
We don’t know a whole hell of a lot about Computer Jesus Refrigerator. They seem to be from Texas, but we’re not sure what part. This WFMU post says they’re from Austin, but their Bandcamp page is tagged San Antonio and their YouTube channel says they’re from Antarctica, which I assume is a joke but could also be an actual town in Texas for all I know. Maybe next to this one.
CJR is mostly the work of one dude named Michael Vasquez, who also goes by the name of KOKOFREAKBEAN. He likes to call his stuff “tonk honky,” which is as good a name for it as any. He plays drums, keyboards and samplers and also does all the project’s artwork, some of which is fucking amazing. He also designs the band’s costumes, which kind of look like his artwork come to life, in a very Caroliner kid’s-coloring-book-on-acid sorta way. Not sure if all CJR shows feature Vasquez on drums and another person on keyboards, but here’s a show from 2009 that does just that. I particularly like the way he yells at the audience in what sounds like a cross between Spanish, Swahili and Sullustese.
As mind-bending as that was, the videos Vasquez makes for CJR’s little 30-to-90-second bursts of glitchcore are even more extreme. Here’s our favorite.
As if all that weren’t enough, KOKOFREAKBEAN also makes disgusting little video shorts for Funny or Die. If you’re at work, don’t click that link. Guess I probably shoulda told you that in advance, huh?
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You blew it, Estonia. You could’ve given that stupid fucking Eurovision contest its greatest moment since the year monster-rockers Lordi won it for Finland. But no. Instead of sending Winny Puhh, you had throw your nation’s hopes and dreams for pop music domination behind this steaming pile of sentimental horseshit from some chick named Birgit Õigemeel. Why, Estonia, why? You had your chance…and you bleeeewww it!
See, in order to decide who they’re gonna send to Eurovision, Estonia hosts a little music competition of its own called Eesti Laul. Most years it’s basically just Eurovision Lite, with lots of schmaltzy pop singers and cheeseball Eurodisco acts strutting their tired-ass stuff. But this year, Estonia’s most popular…only?…costumed punk/metal band Winny Puhh decided to enter the contest and…well, just watch:
I mean, c’mon. Tell me this insanity wouldn’t have kicked ass at Eurovision. It’s already kicking ass on YouTube…956,000 page views and counting. Think Birgit’s Eesti Laul performance, posted on YouTube the same day, has racked up that many hits? Not even close, brother. Again, I say: Estonia, you totally blew it.
Before this past month, pretty much no one outside the Baltic states had ever even heard of Winny Puhh. But they’ve been weirding it up since long before they decided to suspend their drummers from the ceiling and cover their lead singer in Teen Wolf fur. Somehow, everyone west of Warsaw missed this when it came out:
And we were all really fucking asleep at the keyboard to have missed this shit, from 2009:
But hey, better late than never, right? So we salute you, Winny Puhh! And we hope your brush with Eurovision superstardom gets you across the Atlantic soon. Sooner than that human Ambien tablet Birgit Õigemeel, at least.
You might also like: VirginTurtleWhore, Sebkha-Chott, Mr. Bungle
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This week’s band is one of several recently suggested to us by the inimitable Petunia-Liebling MacPumpkin, who could probably do a way better job than us running this blog if she were so inclined. They’re a French group called Rockets, or sometimes Les Rockets or Roketz or even Silver Rockets to avoid being confused with a much less interesting American band called Rockets. And they did the whole ’70s glam/proto-disco/space-rock “We are aliens and we have come to your planet to boogie” thing the way only a bunch of ’70s French dudes could.
Rockets started in Paris way back in 1974 under the name Rocket Men. Dressed up in matching silver suits with shaved heads and silvery gray facepaint, they no doubt caused quite a scene in the French rock clubs of the day. Their otherworldly appearance and heavy use of synthesizers and vocoders suggested a strong Kraftwerk influence, but there was more to them than that: The very first track on their 1976 self-titled debut album, for example, was “Apache,” a funked-up version of a faux-Spaghetti Western rock instrumental recorded by a 1960 British skiffle band called The Shadows. They later covered Canned Heat, too. So their influences ranged pretty far beyond Ziggy-era Bowie and Krautrock—although that was clearly all part of the mix, too.
By 1979, Rockets had begun to enjoy some commercial success, at least in Europe, where their third album Plasteroid sold out in some countries almost as soon as it was released. By this time, they had developed more of a pop/New Wave sound and outfits that appeared to borrow rather flagrantly from Ace Frehley’s Spaceman look. But they had also perfected a highly entertaining live show that featured lots of robot dance moves and a scary, bazooka-like device with which lead singer Christian Le Bartz could shower the audience with sparks. Check the three-minute mark of this clip from an Italian TV appearance for a taste of the spark-bazooka; I’m pretty sure that even in Italy, they don’t let you get away with shit like that anymore.
Rockets peaked, both commercially and creatively, with 1980′s Galaxy, a brilliantly campy piece of space-rock/synth-pop with blacklight-ready cover art and high-concept songs about space travel and cyborgs and other bits of sci-fi geekery. It sold over a million copies worldwide, but the band began to unravel soon thereafter. By 1983, both lead singer Le Bartz and drummer Alain Groetzinger had quit the group, followed shortly by their longtime producer, Claude Lemoine, and their bassist, “Little” Gerard L’Her. With a new British lead singer, Sal Solo, the remnants of Rockets squeezed out two more albums, 1986′s One Way and 1992′s Another Future—the latter of which gamely tried to update the band’s sound with some Brit-rave beats, but without much success. By 1993, the band was effectively defunct.
But nothing helps revive musical careers like a healthy dose of nostalgia—so you will not be surprised to learn that as of 2000, Rockets have resumed their existence, albeit in heavily watered-down form. The closest thing they still have to an original member is keyboardist Fabrice Quagliotti, an Italian who joined the group in 1977. Although we’re not sure exactly when it was shot, we’re pretty sure this video is Rockets in their current incarnation. The spark-shooting guitar is kinda cool, we guess, but go-go dancers? Seriously, guys? They’re like a bad Eurovision band now. We prefer to remember them in their spacey and slightly awkward late ’70s heyday, like in this video:
Or even when they were getting all arty and high-concept with guest female vocalists in the early ’80s, like in this clip:
So thanks for the tip, Petunia! Who knew that over 20 years before Daft Punk, French people were already dressing up like robot/alien space creatures?
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Photo by Matt Brislawn
Someone suggested this week’s weird band to us over a year ago and I really have no good explanation for why we haven’t featured them sooner, other than the fact that for such a visually compelling band, there are amazingly few decent photos of them on the Interweb. Meet Hans Grüsel’s Kränkenkabinet, the greatest avant-garde German noise band ever to dress up like birdhouses.
Actually, that last sentence isn’t exactly true. HGK aren’t really from Germany, nor do they always dress up like birdhouses; sometimes, the lead singer (Hans Grüsel, I presume) dresses up like a tree trunk. Also, as you can see from the YouTube clip in that link—which kinda looks like it was shot in my middle school library—they’re not always that avant-garde. Sometimes they do Motörhead covers. They also do a mean version of “Tea for Two,” complete with tap-dancing. Hans Grüsel’s Kränkenkabinet is one of those bands that, just when you think they can’t possibly get any weirder…they get weirder. Even minus the goofy covers and eye-popping costumes, their music is a uniquely unsettling mix of hurdy-gurdy carnival music and migraine-inducing electro-noise assault. It kinda reminds me of the time I tried to watch Bugs Bunny cartoons with an ear infection and a vertiginous codeine high. Remember when they put codeine in cough syrup? Those were the days. But I digress….
The lunatic behind the Krankenkabinet is not, in fact, Hans Grüsel (at least not on his birth certificate), but a Bay Area composer named Thomas Day. Members of fellow Bay Area psychedelic noise wackos Caroliner are (or were) probably also involved in the project; certainly both groups share the same fingerpainting-on-acid design aesthetic. Another SF eccentric named Liz Allbee may or may not have been in on the action. But as far as I can tell, the exact identities of Day’s collaborators remain shrouded behind the myth that Hans Grüsel was a great but semi-forgotten enfant terrible from East Germany.
Day’s first Krankenkabinet release was 2001′s Das Boot, which purported to be a compilation of Grüsel’s “early works” and came wrapped in hand-painted cardboard, again a la Caroliner. One collector site describes the liner notes as looking “worm eaten,” but I’m not sure if that’s because someone stashed it in their basement too long or if the disc just came that way.
Over the next eight years or so, Hans and co. appear to have been semi-regular fixtures on the Bay Area underground art scene; they even toured occasionally. But from what I’ve been able to glean in my research, 2008′s Blaue Blooded Türen was the project’s last release. Since then, HansGrusel.com has been taken over by Asian cyber-squatters and those birdhouse and tree stump costumes have presumably been stuffed into a dark corner of Thomas Day’s closet—although they did make at least one return appearance in Seattle in 2011. The article about that show describes HGK as a “husband/wife duo” and says the dude in the tree-stump costume is a Seattle singer/guitarist named Sean Curley, who I suspect was recruited for just this one show. Whether the husband/wife thing is true or not, I have no idea.
It’s hard to sum up the weirdness that is Hans Grüsel’s Kränkenkabinet in just one video, but this clip capturing them in full electro-noise-freakout mode comes close. Is it just me, or does whoever’s playing ol’ tree-stump Grüsel (at the 1:30 mark) kinda look like Mr. Peanut’s angry, coke-addled brother?
I’m really glad one of the last things I did before Election Day was go see GWAR. This is a band, after all, that “heartily cried for the destruction” of all candidates earlier this year, and who bookended their set at the Hollywood House of Blues by bloodily decapitating stand-ins for Mitt Romney and Barack Obama. Deep in the throes of election fatigue as I was, it was a pretty cathartic way to spend the first Sunday in November.
I can’t really tell you much else about my first GWAR experience that the photos don’t say for me. (Jake, sadly, couldn’t make it, but he did loan me his vintage ’80s GWAR T-shirt so I wouldn’t get stomped in the mosh pit.) I’ll just note that in addition to Romney and Obama, Oderus and co. also dismembered Hitler, Jesus and Super Cyborg Jesus (that’s SCJ in the photo above, pre-dismemberment), and for their encore, they fed about a dozen lucky fans into a giant meat grinder. You know, family entertainment.
I’ll also note that, as a GWAR newb, I was not fully prepared for just how much fake blood (and fake green god-monster jizz, spurted from Oderus’ enormous god-monster phallus) they hose down their audience with. By the end of the show, the stuff was practically ankle-deep on the floor. I probably should gotten close enough to get doused—GWAR rite of passage and all—but I pussed out because, frankly, they mostly sprayed the mosh pit and I would not have lasted five seconds in that seething mass of flailing elbows and sweaty crowd-surfers. I’m old and I’m pretty sure my crappy insurance would consider “attends metal shows” to be a pre-existing condition.
Anyway, a rowdy, sacrilegious good time was had by one and all—especially when they dismembered Jesus. And man, they dismembered the shit out of him. Even Hitler gets off easier at a GWAR concert than poor old J.C.
Oh, also: After playing it as a joke for The Onion A.V. Club, they have actually added Kansas’ “Carry On Wayward Son” to their set list. Which was nearly as awesome Super Cyborg Jesus.
GWAR’s remaining tour dates after the pics. If you’ve never seen them live, for fuck’s sake go. They are truly a bucket list band. And be sure you get in the fake-blood line of fire. I’m already kicking myself for missing that part. Though not as hard as I would’ve gotten kicked in that mosh pit.
GWAR’s remaining 2012 tour dates:
11/8: Boise, ID @ Knitting Factory
11/9: Portland, OR @ Roseland Theater
11/10: Seattle, WA @ Showbox SODO
11/11: Spokane, WA @ Knitting Factory
11/12: Vancouver, BC @ Vogue Theater
11/14: Edmonton, AB @ Edmonton Events Centre
11/15: Calgary, AB @ MacEwan Hall Ballroom
11/16: Saskatoon, SK @ Odeon Events Centre
11/17: Winnipeg, MB @ The Garrick Center
11/18: Minneapolis, MN @ First Avenue
11/19: Joliet, IL @ Mojoes
11/20: Grand Rapids, MI @ The Intersection
11/21: Milwaukee, WI @ The Rave
11/23: Detroit, MI @ Harpo’s
11/24: Toronto, ON @ Sound Academy
11/26: Millvale, PA @ Mr. Smalls Theater
12/20: Washington, DC @ 9:30 Club
12/21: Norfolk, VA @ The NorVa
Oct 8
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I don’t mind telling you, it was with some trepidation that I went out to see Here Come the Mummies last Thursday night. And not just because they were playing at the House of Blues on the Sunset Strip, which is easily my least favorite part of Los Angeles. The strip used to be sleazy/cool, […]
Like most puny humans, we shed tiny, powerless tears at last year’s passing of GWAR guitarist Flattus Maximus. So it is with great joy that we report that our favorite band of skull-crushing demon-gods is whole once again. Meet the late great Flattus’s mighty cousin, Pustulus Maximus, and prepare to grovel at his swollen feet. GWAR is back, baby!
The announcement of Pustulus’s arrvial came earlier this week via GWAR’s cyber-fortress (aka their website) and was greeted with much rejoicing by the various earthbound metal blogs. We’re a little late to the party because, honestly, we’ve spent most of the past four days doing celebratory shots and cranking Scumdogs of the Universe.
We’re glad we waited though, because this also means we get to tell you about Pustulus’s debut performance, which took place in the offices of the A.V. Club on Tuesday. The full band, with Pustulus in tow, tore through a version of Kansas’s “Carry On Wayward Son” that was way more awesome than it had any business being. In the mighty hands of GWAR, even bloated ’70s pomp-rock can totally shred.
Pustulus and his new GWAR-mates are hitting the road this fall with DevilDriver, Cancer Bats and Legacy of Disorder. Here are the dates:
10/12: Philadelphia, PA @ Electric Factory
10/13: Worcester, MA @ The Palladium (“Rock and Shock”)
10/14: Clifton Park, NY @ Upstate Concert Hall
10/15: New Haven, CT @ Toad’s Place
10/16: Brooklyn, NY @ Music Hall of Williamsburg
10/18: Atlanta, GA @ The Masquerade
10/19: Ybor City, FL @ The Ritz Ybor
10/20: Ft. Lauderdale, FL @ Revolution
10/22: Charlotte, NC @ Amos’ Southend
10/24: New Orleans, LA @ House of Blues
10/25: Austin, TX @ Emo’s
10/26: Dallas, TX @ House of Blues
10/27: Houston, TX @ House of Blues
10/28: Oklahoma City, OK @ The Chameleon Room
10/29: Little Rock, AR @ The Rev Room (NO DD or Cancer Bats)
10/30: Kansas City, MO @ Beaumont Music Hall (No DD or Cancer Bats)
10/31: Denver, CO @ Summit Music Hall
11/1: Albuquerque, NM @ Sunshine Theater
11/2: Tempe, AZ @ The Marquee
11/3: Santa Ana, CA @ The Observatory
11/4: West Hollywood, CA @ House of Blues
11/5: Santa Cruz, CA @ The Catalyst
11/6: Sacramento, CA @ Ace of Spades
11/8: Boise, ID @ Knitting Factory
11/9: Portland, OR @ Roseland Theater
11/10: Seattle, WA @ Showbox SODO
11/11: Spokane, WA @ Knitting Factory
11/12: Vancouver, BC @ Vogue Theater
11/14: Edmonton, AB @ Edmonton Events Centre
11/15: Calgary, AB @ MacEwan Hall Ballroom
11/16: Saskatoon, SK @ Odeon Events Centre
11/17: Winnipeg, MB @ The Garrick Center
11/18: Minneapolis, MN @ First Avenue
11/19: Joliet, IL @ Mojoes
11/20: Grand Rapids, MI @ The Intersection
11/21: Milwaukee, WI @ The Rave
11/23: Detroit, MI @ Harpo’s
11/24: Toronto, ON @ Sound Academy
11/26: Millvale, PA @ Mr. Smalls Theater
Welcome to Earth, Pustulus! We look forward to you stomping us like the puny scum we are.
This week’s band comes to us from a reader named Alex Thermostellar Duddy (Thermduddy, to his bros) and from the dark, twisted heart of the early ’80s. Back then, much of Italy was getting its hairy-chested groove on to the synth-heavy sounds of Italo-disco, a whole weird genre unto itself that might have been the missing link between Kraftwerk and Detroit techno. Or it might just have been what happens when a bunch of Italian dudes with cheap synthesizers and a Giorgio Moroder jones try to make dance music after an all-night cocaine and Chianti bender. And I know it doesn’t sound like I mean that as a compliment, but I do. Italo-disco rules. It just rules in a trashy, gold-chain, uniquely Italian way.
One of the Italo-disco scene’s less heralded producers, a guy named Stefano Pulga, originally conceived Pink Project as a one-off—a slightly tongue-in-cheek disco rework of Pink Floyd’s “Another Brick in the Wall (Part 2)” and Alan Parsons Project’s “Mammagamma.” It was a mashup decades before that term even existed—except that, given the more primitive quality of samplers back in the day (and the looser laws governing cover songs, as opposed to wholesale sampling), it was easier for Pulga to just get together with some of his Italo-disco buddies and a hired children’s choir and record the whole thing themselves. Released under the title “Disco Project,” it was probably never meant to be more than a curiosity piece, while Pulga turned his attention back to his solo stuff and his other, semi-successful group, Kano, who were churning out fairly awful Italo-disco hits like this.
But then something unexpected happened: “Disco Project,” at least in Italy, became a hit. The track’s popularity in 1982 reached such heights that Pink Project began getting invitations to appear on American Bandstand-style Italian TV shows—which was sort of a problem, because as a band, Pink Project didn’t really exist. Pulga solved this rather ingeniously by hiring some performers (one of whom may or may not have been Pulga himself) to show up disguised in black hooded monk’s robes and mime playing the song. Combined in this clip with a fresh-faced children’s choir, the effect is both disturbing and totally ridiculous.
Flush with the success of “Disco Project,” Pulga decided to put out a sequel of sorts: another mashup, this time of Michael Jackson’s “Billie Jean” and The Greg Kihn Band’s “Jeopardy,” released under the title “B-Project.” As far as we’ve been able to find out, it was never a hit, but it’s even more fantastic than the Floyd/Parsons medley. And when Pink Project got invited to appear on another TV show, Pulga one-upped himself by…well, just watch and you’ll see.
Pink Project’s recorded output also consisted several other mashups, including a Police/Vangelis hybrid we quite like, a collision of Trio’s “Da Da Da” and Falco’s “Der Kommissar” called (obviously) “Der Da Da Da,” and a “Rockit”/”Superstition” mash that, sadly, is nowhere as awesome as that combo sounds. They also released a few original tracks, although the less said about them, the better.
All of Pink Project’s singles and their two albums, Domino and Split, are out of print, and there’s not much more info about the project on the web, at least in English. Even Stefano Pulga’s official website only mentions the group in passing (and in Italian, so we’re not sure what he says about it, except that it was “un prodotto nuovo”). But all of their stuff is widely available on YouTube and collector’s websites like Discogs, as well as a few of those naughty Torrent sites, if that’s your thing.
So what do you think? Italo-disco ’80s mashups—superior to hipster ’00s mashups? We say yes. Especially when delivered by guys dressed up like a low-budget cross between Xanadu and Lord of the Rings.
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If there was a Weird Band Olympics, Japan would rack up medals like some monster combination of Chinese swimmers, Norwegian skiers and U.S. men’s basketball players. Every time we think we’ve found the musical pinnacle of Japanese weirdness, somebody points us to another band that makes the other ones look like Air Supply.
So with that, we give you a band from Osaka called Oboreta Ebi No Kenshi Houkokusyo, which translates to “Autopsy Report of Drowned Shrimp” or possibly “The Autopsy Report of a Drowned Shrimp” or maybe even “An Autopsy Report of Shrimp Drowning.” They’re seven(ish)-member experimental jazz/funk band who dress up in giant shrimp masks with light-up eyes and play long, droney jam sessions that sorta sound like The Residents meets Primus meets a Japanese horror movie soundtrack. Their leader, who seems to be known as Boss Shrimp, plays something called a Kydd bass, which looks like a Chapman Stick but is really just a super stripped-down upright bass mounted on a tripod. He’s like a Japanese Les Claypool with that thing, only he’s wearing a giant fucking shrimp mask.
And that’s pretty much all we know about them. There’s virtually no English about these guys on the web. We did manage to track down their official website, which is all in Japanese, and with the help of Google translator, we got this description of the band:
Shrimp head, human body. Identity … is a mystery. Multi-group leader Art [Phantom], led by shrimp drowned. Participate in a number of musicians and performers in Japan has been revamped to human shrimp. The number of members is unspecified.
From what heavy music such as music monster movie, anime cartoon comical things like run around rapidly, its means of expression are diverse techno innocent.
All members, wearing a mask – a very elaborate shrimp. Difference, protean, infinite variety and musical instruments also configure the number of members in each performance. Live, called the “Report” and has a reputation to produce three-dimensional that you take full advantage of the floor and other seats as well as stage, exclamation from celebrities from various fields, there are many voices of praise.
All clear? Good.
Fortunately, you don’t need a translator to enjoy videos of the Drowned Shrimp in action. As you’ll see from the clips below, their live show is pretty insane. If anyone knows anything else about these guys, please tell us, because they seriously might be our new favorite band. Big ups to reader Oscar for turning us on to them. You’re right, Oscar…it doesn’t get any weirder than this:
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Anubis be praised! (No? Not an Egyptology crowd tonight? Fine…) Here Come the Mummies are bringing their reanimated funk back on the road…and this time, for the first time in like, forever (well, OK, for as long as we’ve known about them, which to be fair has only been about a year), they’re playing a show here in L.A.! Jake and I will be there with bandages and corpse paint on, baby, ready to let our freak flags fly.
But wait, the news gets cooler. HCTM are also pulling a Louis C.K. and selling tickets directly through their website, keeping convenience charges low and throwing in a few perks like a $5 gift certificate to the Mummies online store. Pretty savvy for a bunch of dudes who’ve been dead for 3,000 years.
Here are the full dates for what they’ve dubbed the “If the Clown Shoe Fits” tour. Clowns and mummies? It’s like the birthday party I was so cruelly denied as a six-year-old.
Sep 21 Toledo, OH Headliners
Sep 22 Urbana, IL Canopy Club
Oct 4 West Hollywood, CA House of Blues
Oct 5 Santa Ynez, CA Chumash Casino Resort
Oct 6 Las Vegas, NV Hard Rock Las Vegas
Oct 7 Tucson, AZ Rialto Theatre
Oct 11 Nashville, TN Live On The Green
Oct 12 Bloomington, IN The Bluebird
Oct 13 St. Louis, MO The Pageant
Oct 14 Lincoln, NE Rococo Theatre
Oct 18 Lexington, KY Buster’s Billiards & Backroom
Oct 19 Ft. Wayne, IN Pierre’s
Oct 20 Mansfield, OH Renaissance Theatre
Oct 25 Madison, WI Majestic Theatre
Oct 26 Onamia, MN Grand Casino Mille Lacs
Oct 27 Hinkley, MN Grand Casino Amphitheater
Nov 1 Joliet, IL MoJoes
Nov 2 Macomb, IL COFAC Recital Hall
Nov 3 Dubuque, IA Diamond Jo Casino
Nov 10 Cincinnati, OH Taft Theatre
Nov 16 Indianapolis, IN Vogue Theater
Nov 17 South Bend, IN Club Fever
I stand by my hyperbole.
now cmon they arent that bad you're making it out as worse than it is "the manson family" gimme a br
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IqVTPLsH6DY
Horray! Stoked they got featured. They're a glorious romp and scarily clever clogged!
Thanks on your marvelous posting! I genuinely enjoyed reading it, you can be a great author. I will
Well, that was fun.
